


shark in the water

by ohhotlamb



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Romance, Confessions, M/M, Mild Language, accidental violence, and noya is the school delinquent, asahi's a freakin nerd, you see where this is going
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 04:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11981844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohhotlamb/pseuds/ohhotlamb
Summary: Asahi accidentally knocks out the school delinquent, and subsequently earns himself an admirer.





	shark in the water

“I heard Nishinoya Yuu beat up three guys from Ougiminami single-handedly yesterday. Not a scratch on him.”

“That little gremlin’s a freak, I’m tellin’ you. You better not mess with him.”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it. I like my balls where they are, thank you.”

“Asahi.”

“Hmm?” Asahi turns away from his half-hearted eavesdropping, the majority of his brain preoccupied with his day plans as he opens his shoe locker. Full day of classes, then maybe he could pick up an iced mocha or something after school, but that was only if he doesn’t get tied up too much with after-school cleaning. Once he got home it was studying for a solid two hours, eat dinner for forty minutes, and then more studying until ten-thirty, which was bedtime.

It’s going to be a long, long day.

Suga frowns at him, those silvery eyebrows pinching together. “You’re not going straight home again today after school, are you?”

“Um.” Asahi slips out of his outdoor shoes, reaching for his indoor slippers. “Midterm exams are in two weeks, and I told my parents that I would score in the top ten, so…”

“ _Asahi.”_

“S _uga!”_ Asahi whines, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed. They’ve had it too many times, especially this past year, and he was tired of being ragged on. On top of being physically _tired._

_All the time._

Suga slams his locker shut, looking up pleadingly. “You haven’t played with us in like, a month! I’m fine with you needing to focus on your studies before graduation, but you’re going to get rusty!”

“And I’m fine with that,” Asahi sighs, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. His chest twinges at the blatant lie as he says it—he’s actually not fine, knowing he might not even remember how to serve a ball anymore. Not fine at all. But sacrifices had to be made, right? That was life. Better get used to it now while he was still young and malleable.

“Studying is important. It is. But,” Suga holds up a finger when Asahi opens his mouth to argue, “but you’re a high school student—not one for much longer, I might add—and I don’t want you to have any regrets.” He looks up at Asahi sadly, and guilt burns hot in the back of Asahi’s throat. “I don’t want you to look back on your teenage years and only remembering studying your butt off for calculus, which you are already obscenely good at, by the way. You need to make some worthwhile memories while you can.”

His fingers twitch, missing that feeling of a ball solidly connecting to his palm like a physical ache. When was the last time he had _fun?_ When did the anxiety become as much a part of him as his nose or his hands or his hair? He can’t remember the last time he was able to fall asleep easily, without being assaulted by his brain constantly regurgitating math formulas and history dates he won’t remember in a few months.

Daichi, apparently having heard the tail-end of their conversation, chooses that moment to swoop in from nowhere, hooking his arm around Asahi’s neck and tugging him down to bellow in his ear. “Yeah, Asahi! Come play with us!”

Asahi flinches, instinctively pulling away to preserve his hearing. “Daichi—“

“Nope!” Daichi interrupts, crossing his arms and standing next to Suga. “Tomorrow we’re having a scrimmage with the girls’ team, and if you’re not there we’re gonna get our asses kicked. Michimiya doesn’t need more gloating material, Asahi. She has ammo starting from fourth grade. We need you.”

Asahi sighs, the guilt settling down to fester permanently in his stomach. “I would, really, I’m sorry, but like I told Suga—“

To his horror, the two of them start to _chant._ It’s a loud, obnoxious repetition of _Play with us! Play with us! Play with us!_ that is noticeable even in the noisy entry hall—people are starting to _stare._

Asahi waves his hands, speaking in a hush and glancing around fearfully. “Guys, guys, stop, you’re embarrassing me—“

Suga leans forward. “C’mon, Asahi! Just one day! You know you want to!”

Asahi growls with frustration, his hands curled into fists. He feels something—real anger, stemming from the guilt roiling in his belly, and his hands gesticulate wildly. “Of course I _want to,_ but that’s _beside the point!”_ he yells. And with that he flings out his arm, his fist smacking into something solid—something warm, something smooth, and in its wake he hears a surprised sort of grunt that abruptly breaks off. There’s the sound of rustling clothes and a loud _thud,_ something dropping into Asahi’s peripheral vision by his feet.

Oh, great. He must have knocked something out of a student’s hands. Just one more thing to feel ashamed over. A resulting flush spreads across his cheeks, an apology already on his tongue as he glances down at whatever it is, and—

And there’s a _body._

Asahi freezes, blood running ice cold. There is a _body_ by his feet. A _person—_ and a very small one at that.  _A child?_ He looks at the knuckles of his right hand—red and a little sore, from hitting something with too much force. His vision goes slightly blurry. He sways on his feet.

_Oh dear god. I killed someone. I’m a **murderer.** _

And then pandemonium breaks loose.

“Did you s _ee_ that?”

“Damn, I _knew_ that you shouldn’t mess with Azumane! That goatee is bad news!”

“Oh please, I went to middle school with Azumane. He’s about as menacing as a toddler.”

“With a face like that? I don’t think so.”

“I’m so sorry!” Asahi wails, though he’s not exactly sure who he’s apologizing too, specifically—his victim, definitely. Maybe the people who had to witness his moment of accidental violence? His parents, for having to raise a criminal? The world, for his existence? Asahi reaches up to grab fistfuls of his hair— _oh no_ , he was going to be _expelled_. He was going to be _arrested._

He collapses to kneel by the boy’s side, reaching forward with shaking hands and rolling him onto his back so his face isn’t smushed into the entry way tile. He’s not as young as Asahi first thought—not a child, but still very small. A student at this school, by the looks of his uniform, even though the front is unbuttoned all the way down, the way they were taught _not_ to wear it.

“This isn’t what I meant by worthwhile memories,” Suga says lightly. He kneels beside Asahi, nudging the boy. When he still doesn’t move, Suga looks back up with wonder. “He’s out cold,” he breathes, his voice oozing concern, but Asahi can see that there’s a very small sadistic part of him that’s trying desperately not to laugh.

“I didn’t mean it! I didn’t! Hey, wake up! Hey! Are you okay? Wake up!” Asahi shakes the boy’s slight shoulders, frantic, trying not to cry and _knows_ he’s failing when the ball forms in his throat, when Daichi sets a hand between his shoulders to rub in soothing circles.

“Asahi,” he murmurs quietly. “Let’s take Nishinoya to the nurse’s office, okay? That way when he wakes up he won’t be on the floor. And not being stared at by the whole school.”

“ _Ni—“_ Asahi’s voice cracks and breaks off into an embarrassing shriek. His eyes dart down, only now properly observing his victim’s face for the first time.

It’s Nishinoya Yuu.

The single most ferocious and terrifying boy in this entire school.

Out of everyone Asahi could have potentially knocked unconscious, of course it had to be _him._

How had he not noticed before? There’s at least a dozen piercings between both ears, the slip of a tattoo showing beneath his slanted collar. He’s got that weird little bleached tuft above his forehead, hair spiked up like he got electrocuted this morning. It looks stiff and crunchy with hair gel. Asahi can smell it.

And there’s a purpling bruise developing across his left temple, darker spots roughly the size of Asahi’s knuckles. His eyes are closed; they don’t even flutter when Suga reaches over to pinch his cheek.

_I’m going to die._

A devastating sort of calm envelopes Asashi then. He imagines it’s the same resignation one would feel after receiving the death penalty, knowing their time is fast approaching and they only have so many hours left to contemplate the universe. The only difference is that instead of the electric chair, he’s going to be facing one of three options:  A) the principal, which means either suspension or, worst case scenario, expulsion, B) his parents, who will cross his name off of their wills of inheritance and banish him from the house, or the worst option, C) Nishinoya Yuu.

The onlookers are still hollering to each other, some of them taking pictures with their cell phones. Someone yells to get the nurse. Another to call an ambulance.  Ignoring all of them, without another word Asahi scoops up Nishinoya’s limp body, lifting him with ease to the shocked gasps of the lingering crowd. Suga raises an eyebrow but says nothing, both him and Daichi falling into step behind Asahi as he heads in the direction of the nurse’s station. He had lived a good life, right? Because when Nishinoya Yuu wakes up, he is going to _kill Asahi_. He is going to tear him limb from limb, eat his heart, and stomp on his corpse before dumping him into the river. There’s no way he’s going to survive the rest of the day.

This boy, weighing at least fifty pounds less than and almost a whole foot below Asahi, is going to snap his neck with one hand. He will laugh at his funeral. Stub cigarettes out on his headstone and swear at his weeping mother.

Even though he hasn’t worked out in…well, a little too long— it’s still relatively easy carrying the dead weight of Nishinoya up two flights of stairs. His head is lolling against Asahi’s bicep, face slack and mouth slightly open. When they reach the infirmary, the nurse instructs him to lay Nishinoya down in one of the two beds, and he gently arranges his limbs to be straight along his sides, fingers curled loosely. Daichi and Suga leave to go to class, but Asahi stays—watches the nurse count Nishinoya’s heartbeats, lifting up his eyelids and shining a beaming flashlight across chocolate brown; she hums with satisfaction as his pupils constrict, and she pats him on the chest as she straightens.

“I’m going to call his parents. He’s going to be fine. Stay with him for a moment, won’t you?”

“Ah—sure.”

She steps to the other side of the room to her desk, clicking around her computer for a moment before picking up her phone and beginning to speak in a low voice.

Asahi turns back, watching Nishinoya’s chest rise and fall as he breathes. _It’s hard to believe he’s so violent,_ Asahi thinks—he’s just so _small,_ his young face a little round at the cheeks. But he does have a wiry sort of muscle about him, and Asahi’s never seen him in action but he’s heard the stories—strikes fast as lightning, brutal and precise. Brown eyes lighting up gold. Making the bravest of men incontinent. And while Asahi’s not necessarily _glad_ their first meeting is when Nishinoya is comatose, per say, he’s not _unhappy_ that he doesn’t have to see the electric fury first-hand right away. Maybe he’ll even be able to slip away once the nurse releases him, and Nishinoya will have to deal with the handicap of not knowing his face when he begins the hunt. That should at least give him some time to knock out a few items on his bucket list before—

Nishinoya groans.

_I spoke too soon._

His heart starts racketing around his chest like a flock of birds simultaneously smacking into a glass window, and it’s all he can do to stay put and not give into his urge to hide underneath the bed.

Nishinoya cracks open an eye, his mouth turned down in a sleepy sort of grimace. He squints at Asahi. “Who the hell’re you?”

He tries. He really does. But in the end, Asahi—

Asahi runs.

 

* * *

 

 

He spends the day until lunch time trying to appreciate what he took for granted all his years on this earth. He looks out the window, consciously appreciating the color of the sky.  He marvels at the convenience of electricity and running water. Indoor plumbing! Suga and Daichi, his best friends even though he is their favorite to tease. They sit together during lunch, and Daichi offers him his last octopus wiener. Asahi nearly cries. He doesn’t even care that a tentacle is missing. When he’s finished eating, he fishes his favorite novel out of his bag to stuff his nose into—he considers this something of a last meal, and is trying to milk every last bit of enjoyment out of his few remaining moments as possible.

“Oi, Azumane-san! Someone’s calling for you out in the hallway!”

_Oh no. Oh no. Here it comes._

Asahi slowly lowers his novel, the blood draining from his face. Suga quickly swallows his bite of rice before he immediately stands and hurries over to the door to investigate. Asahi rests his forehead on his desk, counting backwards from ten and forcing himself to keep breathing without hyperventilating, which he only just barely succeeds in. Daichi’s palm returns to his back.

“It might not be what you think it is.”

“He’s going to murder me.”

“Maybe not. Maybe it’s not even him.”

Asahi tilts his head on the desk, giving a wide-eyed and slightly hysterical look to Daichi, who grins weakly. They both know this is the first time this school year anyone’s bothered to call Asahi out of class. And for it to be during the same day as Asahi smacking Nishinoya Yuu insensible was too great a coincidence for either of them to believe.

Chair scraping as he pushes it back, Asahi shakily stands from his seat, setting his novel down on the desk. Daichi follows him as he creeps across the room, one hesitant and dread-filled step at a time, until they both reach Suga at the door. Peeking around the frame only solidifies what Asahi already knew to be true—he’s definitely doing to die. 

Nishinoya’s standing in the middle of the hallway, back stiff and straight. He’s turned away from Asahi’s classroom door, studiously ignoring all the other students in the hall, who are whispering to each other behind their hands— _what’s he doing in the third-year wing? Hey, isn’t that punk Nishinoya Yuu? Whoa, what happened to his face! I sure feel bad for the poor bastard who fucked with **him.**  _

Asahi swallows, and Daichi rests a steady hand against his elbow. “We’ll be right here. If you need backup, me and Suga will come running. We probably can’t beat him, but maybe we can buy enough time for someone to get their hands on some horse tranquilizers.”  

“Or, Asahi could just knock him out again,” Suga adds helpfully. He soon after glances at Daichi and they both snort before erupting into giggles.  

“Guys!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Suga smiles. “It’s going to be fine, Asahi. And try to calm down—he can probably smell fear. Now, go get ‘em, tiger.” He pushes Asahi, _hard,_ in the middle of his back; Asahi barely getting the chance to take another deep breath before he’s stumbling out in the hall. And almost like he has eyes in the back of his head, Nishinoya immediately spins around to face him.

Asahi’s stomach sinks when he sees that the bruise has seemed to become impossibly _worse._ The whole right side of Nishinoya’s face is swollen, the worst of it right beside one of his catlike brown eyes. He’s frowning ( _scowling, he’s scowling at **you**_ , _oh no)_ and shifting from side to side, his arms crossed over his chest. His blazer’s tied around his waist, blatantly ignoring dress code, still wearing that white t-shirt. _One man army._ Asahi completely understands—the weight of that piercing stare feels like it could have been coming from a hundred men.

“Azumane Asahi?”

Asahi flinches, even though it had been spoken with a normal, indoor voice—a little throaty, but Asahi thinks that’s just how it is.

“Y-yes, I’m….him.”

“So you’re the one, huh?”

Asahi desperately tries to remember everything he knows about fighting from what he’s learned from movies—keep your elbows in, fists protecting your face—wait, are his thumbs supposed to go inside or outside of his fists? And why is he even bothering thinking about this? He knows he’s no match—he’s big, and his reflexes aren’t bad, but they’re nowhere near the league of Nishinoya. And besides the obvious power difference, Asahi genuinely doesn’t think he has what it takes to hit another person, _on purpose._

Instead, he does what he does best; he hunches his shoulders to look as harmless as possible, his hands held in front of him, and he bends into a low bow at the waist. “Look—I’m, um, I’m really, really sorry about what happened—“

He flinches when he sees shoes step into view in front of him, and he clenches his teeth, eyes screwing shut. But instead of the hot burst of pain he expects, he gets a soft touch to his shoulder, just a gentle press of fingertips—

He looks up, nervous sweat beading at his hairline. Nishinoya is waving his hands, eyes wide and scandalized. “Whoa, whoa, dude, chill. It’s no problem. Seriously, you don’t gotta do that.” He presses at Asahi’s shoulder again, looking vastly uncomfortable. “Stand up straight.”

He does, mostly because he’s scared of what would happen if he didn’t. His eyebrows pinch together, processing Nishinoya’s words—no problem? Then does that mean he isn’t…mad?

Is Asahi not going to die?

“But…but, aren’t you, um, concussed?”

Nishinoya laughs, the sound like a delighted caterwaul, and it makes Asahi wince with how loud it is. “’f course not! I’m a tough egg! It would take a lot more than that to crack me!”

“Oh. Well…that’s…that’s good. I’m glad.”

Nishinoya stops laughing abruptly, squinting up at Asahi like he’s trying to figure something out, and sweat continues to erupt across Asahi’s hairline. The intensity of that stare is so strong it feels like it’s going to burn right through him.

“I like the bun.”

Asahi blinks, feeling completely lost; then realization hits him, and he smiles self-consciously, reaching back to lightly touch his hair. “The…oh, my h-hair? U-uh, thank yo—“

“It’s really hot. You’re, like, _really hot.”_

“Um.”

What the hell is happening.

“Damn.” Nishinoya shakes his head. “ _Damn.”_ He takes a step closer, and Asahi takes one step back.

_What. The. Hell._

“And you’re _so strong._ Look at your arms!” Asahi does, just for a second, and jumps when Nishinoya makes a loud whining sound. “You’re ripped! And you totally knocked me out—like I said, I’m tough—and you weren’t even _trying_ to hit me! I was just walkin’ by! That’s amazing! Imagine what you could do if you put your mind to it!”

Asahi shakes his head, trying to process the words that are spilling from Nishinoya’s wide, smiling mouth a mile a minute. He’s able to catch and hold onto one part in particular.

“You know I wasn’t trying to hurt you?”

Nishinoya snorts. “Uh, duh? There’s no way you would. I have a good sense for these things.” He nods sagely. “And you don’t have that kinda vibe. You feel super mellow.” He grins. “And scared, but I bet you’re not like this all the time.”

“Well…”

“Anyway, you’re hella cute. Like _whoa._ Damn. And I heard you carried me to the nurse’s office. And you stayed with me until I woke up. That was real nice of you.”

His head is whirling, and he trips over his tongue. “That...that was just—“

“I like you.”

This time, he bites on his tongue hard enough for him to choke. “ _What?”_

He didn’t mishear. Nishinoya is nodding to himself again, looking like he isn’t embarrassed by his spur-of-the-moment declaration in the least. “I really like you, Asahi-san. Please go out with me.”

What does he say? _What does he say!?_ He’s never been confessed to before! And for his first to be someone like Nishinoya…!

All he can do is stare, a low, strangled sound coming up the back of his throat. He prays that it’s not the beginnings of vomit.

“I remember waking up, you know?” Nishinoya continues, gazing up at him with sparkles in his eyes. “And at first I thought I had died, because the first thing I saw was you, and I was all like, _Oh, so I guess angels **are** real. _And then you ran away and the nurse gave me your name when I asked. So that’s why I’m here. And I think you’re hot and nice, which are my favorite things about a person.”

His knees are s _haking,_ like a newborn calf. Everyone is staring at them, jaws on the floor, because of course Nishinoya didn’t bother to keep his voice down. No, now his confession has been heard by _at least_ half of the third years, and will undoubtedly have spread throughout the entire school by nightfall. He swallows, sweat trickling down the back of his neck.

“So, what do you say?” Nishinoya’s head is cocked to the side. His eyes are impossible to look away from—fiercely earnest, and helplessly adoring. Asahi wets his lips.

“Can…can I give you my answer tomorrow?”

He’s ashamed of how soft his voice comes out, but he’s grateful that he was able to get anything out at all. And it’s enough for Nishinoya, who finally blinks, and looks down at the floor. He scuffs the tile with the tip of his shoe, letting out a little breath, something about his expression _shy._

“Sure thing, Asahi-san.”

 

* * *

 

 

Suga and Daichi are unbearable, after that.

If he thought they liked to tease him _before,_ it’s a hundred, a _thousand_ times worse now.

And he can’t even be mad at them, because he wholeheartedly deserves to be teased. Because he _hesitated. Can I give you my answer tomorrow?_ What was _that?_ What does he possibly have to think about? There is no way, not in this lifetime or the next, that he could imagine going on a date with Nishinoya Yuu. What would they even talk about? Do they even have anything in common? And that would be _after_ Asahi pushed through the underlying fear of being brutally murdered at the drop of a dime. And yet…

He still doesn’t know what his answer is going to be.

Which means that he’s _actually considering it._

Why? Is it because this is the first person to voice their affections to him aloud? Is it because he enjoys being told (repeatedly) that he’s attractive? He didn’t think he was that shallow, but what other reason could there be?

_He’s the exact opposite of you,_ the voice inside him says. _It would be a disaster._

_I know that,_ he thinks, desperately. _But he thinks that I’m kind._

So that’s why, the next morning, he arrives to school with a jittery feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. The smallest touches against him cause him to jump, and anyone in his peripheral vision shorter than one hundred and sixty centimeters is reason enough for his heart to throw itself against his ribcage. His shirt is damp with sweat, and several strands of hair have escaped his bun to hang loosely beside his face.

He’s a wreck, something that only intensifies when he rounds the corner and finds a terrifying boy leaning beside his locker, bald-headed and _growling_ at anyone to looks at him for more than a second. Asahi freezes, two milliseconds from turning on his heel and walking right back home, because this was certainly a friend of Nishinoya’s, and he still wasn’t mentally prepared to deal with that. But a solid thump between his shoulder blades has him stumbling forward, and he looks up, dismayed, as Suga breezes past him, sending a sly smile over his shoulder. Complete betrayal. Again.

The sound he makes (an agonized sort of whimper) is loud enough to draw notice, and a second later the boy darts to snap to attention. “Azumane-san!” he yells, his eyes rimmed in black and tongue gleaming with a metal ball.

It’s too late to run. Running is one thing when the person you’re running from is half-unconscious in the nurses’ office bed. But when the person in front of you is fresh-faced and functioning on more than two hours of sleep, that’s another thing entirely. Asahi knows this, so he privately makes a note to never help Suga study again, and takes a deep breath.

“How can I help you?” he asks, the palms of his hands clammy beyond belief.  

“I came to deliver this!”

It’s a box, and Asahi’s initial thought is ‘ _is it a bomb?’,_ but upon opening it he discovers not a weapon of mass destruction but (to his absolute bewilderment) a small German chocolate cake, decorated with frosting intricately twirled into pale pink roses. It looks delicious, and he glances up for an explanation.

The boy clears his throat.

“This is, ah, a gift from Noya-san. He got a little tied up this morning so he asked me to give it to you. And to tell you, quote,” he screws up his face, blood staining his cheeks deep red, “ _You’re hella fine, I wish you were mine. Your face is like cake, ‘cause I wanna eat it.”_

Asahi flushes scarlet, and he’s fairly certain he just heard the distant bark of Suga’s laugh.

The boy looks vastly uncomfortable, and he grimaces at Asahi apologetically. ”I’m ninety-nine percent sure he came up with it on the spot, so don’t hold the shitty rhyming against him. And it’s the thought that counts, right?” he rubs the back of his head, still shuffling from foot to foot. A couple of girls across the aisle, clearly having eavesdropped, giggle behind their hands. Asahi is surprised he hasn’t spontaneously combusted.

“Anyway, Noya-san’s gonna try to find you sometime today. Give him a chance, okay? He’s the coolest dude ever, I swear.”  The warning bell rings, and the bald kid’s eyes widen. “Ah, shit. Gotta run.” He gives Asahi a salute before dashing away, and Asahi watches him go, the box held tightly in his hands.

For the first time in known memory, he’s late for class.

 

* * *

 

 

Asahi eats the cake during lunch. It’s all he eats, and he eats the entire thing. By the time he’s finished his stomach feels like it’s going to split along the seams and his brain is buzzing from the sugar rush, but he just hadn’t been able to stop. It had been _delicious._

“What are you going to do?” Suga asks lightly, resting his chin in his hand. The nonchalance is destroyed by the way he’s grinning like a cat with feathers poking out from between its lips.

“I…I don’t know,” he replies, honestly. “No one’s ever liked me before. It’s weird, and I don’t know…what do to.” He frowns, confused, when Daichi’s cough sounds very much like a laugh, and Suga’s now hiding his smile behind his hand.

“What? What did I say?”

“Half the girls’ volleyball club and literally all of the mathletes are in love with you, Asahi,” Daichi says. “You’re so smart with everything else that you’re dumb when it comes to any kind of romance.” Asahi looks to Suga, hoping for some sort of support, but all he gets is an agreeing nod. “Who knew that all it takes is a blunt confession and a cake to win your heart.”

“He didn’t win my heart!” Asahi argues.  

“Asahi, the fact that you’re hung up on this at all speaks otherwise. If you weren’t at least _considering_ dating him, you would have changed your name and fled the country by now.”

“I’m not that much of a coward,” Asahi mumbles, half-heartedly.

He’s leveled with two disbelieving looks, and he sinks down lower into his seat.

“All we’re saying,” Daichi continues, his eyes softening. “Is that maybe it’s time you were a little more honest with yourself.”

 

* * *

 

 

Nishinoya Yuu finds him after school on the green-filled path that runs between the main building and the gym. There are several plum trees and flowering bushes, and Asahi sits on one of the benches beside the path. He watches the clouds scuttle across the sky and rests his elbows on his knees, the wind making the strands of hair loose from his bun tickle his neck. Maybe it’s because of his (kind of) near death experience, but he thinks about what Suga said yesterday morning before all this crazy stuff happened. That he may come to regret the way he’s spent his time in high school. It’s not that he’s been absolutely miserable, (always) putting studying first and rarely allowing himself the luxury of slacking off. But he can safely say he’s not going to remember any of it in ten years. He exists in shades of black and white, very small bursts of color every now and then.

And then he thinks about how the past thirty-three hours have been more memorable and exciting than this entire year combined. How it almost gives him a rush, like the way he felt before he quit the team. A bright splash of sunflower yellow, summery and warm, despite all of the accompanying terror. He wants to have a life that’s bright and lively, one that’s colorful like this all the time, and he suddenly remembers, very clearly, a pair of luminous, spirited eyes.

“Asahi-san.”

He nearly jumps off of the bench when someone speaks up behind him. He whirls, his throat closing up, knowing who it is. How he knew where to find him, Asahi doesn’t know. All he knows is that Nishinoya Yuu’s face is red as a beet and he holds himself like someone physically bracing themselves for a rejection.

“Ni…Nishinoya,” Asahi croaks. He gets to his feet, unsteadily, and they stand away from each other. Nishinoya doesn’t move to stand toe-to-toe with him this time. Instead, he gives him a proper amount of space. It’s almost like he’s trying to be considerate, or, in the very least, trying not to scare away the timid rabbit after baring his fangs.

“Sorry I didn’t give you the gift myself this morning,” he says, a hand lifting to run through his gelled hair. “Me and Ryuu got jumped on the way to school—those Ougiminami bitches wanted to redeem themselves, and like _hell_ I was gonna let ‘em get away with what they said—so I told Ryuu to take the goods and just _book it._ ”

There’s a small cut above the shiner Asahi gave Nishinoya, just above his eyebrow. Dried blood is crusted around the edges, but the worst of it has been cleaned away. Asahi can’t stop staring at it.

“And—and there were like four dudes, all fuckin’ huge—I’m talkin’ _you_ level of huge, but like _way_ ugly—and, oh man, you should’ve seen ‘em! By the time I was done they were fuckin’ _bawling.”_ Nishinoya laughs then, a little bit of his regular confidence shining through. Asahi finds himself letting out a soft laugh himself—he can see it, vividly, even though he’s never seen Nishinoya fight before. He can only imagine those four boys, thinking that they’ll be able to beat him down through sheer force in numbers, and realizing that it would take a lot more than a few solid punches to get Nishinoya bowing in to _anyone._

“What did they say?” Asahi asks, half curious, the other half just wanting to keep Nishinoya talking. _You like the sound of his voice, don’t you?_ says Asahi’s inner voice, which sounds a lot like Suga.

Nishinoya’s face turns sour, and he looks away. “They asked me if I wanted to make toys in the North Pole after I graduate.”

“What? Like…like those…”

“Santa’s elves. Yeah. They were making fun of my height.” Nishinoya’s scowling at the ground as he says it. His face is still red, and there’s a certain amount of shame twisting his expression. Asahi hates it. It’s like watching a tiger, something so beautiful in its natural ferocity, tamed into submission. Those kinds of expressions don’t belong on Nishinoya’s face.

“I like it,” Asahi blurts, immediately clamping down on his bottom lip with his teeth. Nishinoya squints up at him.

“Like what? Christmas?”

Asahi hesitates, wetting his lips. “…your height.”

Nishinoya stares at him. Asahi sweats.

“Just, I mean. Uhm. I like how you don’t let it hold you back from doing what you want. Even when it’s fighting…which you probably shouldn’t do, you could get kicked out of school.”

Nishinoya continues staring. Asahi sweats some more. Then the smaller boy grins. “I gotta be honest, I completely tuned out after you said ‘I like you’. “

Asahi’s face very nearly sets itself on fire. “Wha—I didn’t say that!”

“You might as well have! Damn, look at me! I’m blushing like a fiend! Whoo!” He looks down and away, his face indeed glowing an even brighter red than before, and he lifts the collar of his shirt to hide the lower half of his face. He makes a quiet whining sound, high pitched and embarrassed, and Asahi blinks. _Cute,_ his brain supplies him, and he balks.

“Did you make that cake?” he blurts, remembering the perfect moistness of the cake, the way the frosting wasn’t overly sweet. He had licked his fingers clean, very nearly scraping the bottom of the box for remnants. But it hadn’t tasted bought—it tasted like it was made with care, and Asahi is suddenly assaulted with the mental image of Nishinoya in an apron.

“Did you like it?” Nishinoya asks in turn, eyes still downcast and mouth still hidden by fabric.

“I did. It was delicious.”

“Good.” He sounds inordinately pleased, and only now does Asahi step closer. This time, he’s the one who steps close enough for his shoes to suddenly fill Nishinoya’s field of vision. He glances up, bright eyes wide, and the collar of his shirt drops to reveal a parted mouth. Asahi doesn’t know Nishinoya. He doesn’t know what he likes to do (besides fighting), he doesn’t know how he feels about tonkatsu ramen, and he doesn’t know if they have even a smidgen of compatibility. But he does know one thing.

_I want to get to know you better._

“Nishinoya, have you ever played volleyball before?”

It’s not what Nishinoya was expecting, evidently, as he takes a moment to reply, blinking several times in confusion. “Nah, didn’t seem like the kind of thing I’d be very good at,” he finally admits, gesturing broadly to his whole person. _I’m not tall enough,_ is what he means, and the apron is replaced with the garish orange of the club’s libero uniform. He’s the perfect size for the position, and the club could use someone with this much fire in their veins.

“Well, I’m on the team here,” Asahi explains, a little startled to realize that, yes, he’s going to rejoin. He’s going to play with Suga and Daichi again after school, and he’s going to feel the burn on his palm after a sound spike over the net. He’s going to make the most of what time he has left. “And I want you to play with me.”

Nishinoya’s eyes are like saucers, and so are Asahi’s, because he’s honestly wondering where all this courage is coming from. But he won’t let himself duck his head down. He doesn’t avert his gaze, even though his heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his throat. He wants to get to know this boy better, because despite everything, he has a very strong suspicion that—

_I think I could like you, too._

“Sure,” Nishinoya eventually rushes to agree, a little breathlessly. “Of course I will, Asahi-san.”

And Asahi smiles, knowing that this could be the beginning of something worthwhile.

  
(Three weeks later, he wears his hair down to school. It’s to hide the teeth marks on his neck, and his chest burns pleasantly when he sees who’s waiting for him, smiling brightly, at the school gate.)

**Author's Note:**

> this is another fic that i wrote the majority of a while ago, and decided to finish it! I hope you enjoyed! :^)
> 
> ohhotlamb.tumblr.com


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